


Untitled

by chaosmanor



Category: Fall Out Boy, Rush (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Incomplete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosmanor/pseuds/chaosmanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Rush!</i>, the teen magazine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> Unfinished, incomplete and abandoned. This is all there is of this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

Josh ambled into the Rush office, water bottle in hand, sunglasses pushed up on top of his head, and Leon threw a balled-up piece of paper at Josh from the admin desk. Josh caught it on principle.

Sometimes Leon threw junk at the staff, but sometimes the crumpled papers were their pay slips or assignments, so it was worth paying attention.

"You're late," Shannon shouted, from the kitchenette.

"Am I last?" Josh asked, pushing into the kitchenette behind her and opening the fridge to retrieve an apple. "That's what really matters."

"Course you're not fucking last," Shannon said. "Dom phoned in with some pathetic excuse about babies and teething and wives, and Stella's phone is still off, which means she hasn't achieved higher brain functions yet."

Josh raised an eyebrow at Shannon. "Or any?"

Shannon bit into the muffin she was holding, and Josh said, "That stuff will kill you."

"Not as fast as Stella's driving," Shannon said around a mouthful of crumbs. "Or Kerry's. Or Leon's. Or yours. Fuck off."

"Josh!" Kerry shouted, from the walk-in closet that she pretended was her office. "You're late! Get your skinny arse in here. Shannon, call Stella again, and tell her she's fired if she's not here in thirty seconds."

Josh tossed his apple in the air and caught it, and grinned at Shannon.

Kerry waved Josh into her office. "Close the door."

"You do know there's no sound privacy, even with the door closed," Josh said, wriggling the door closed in the wonky frame, then dropping down into the folding plastic chair that Kerry insisted other people sat on in her office.

"Yeah, yeah," Kerry said. "And Leon has the fucking room bugged anyway, but I feel obliged to observe the formalities here. I want you to come to a meeting with me today."

"Sure," Josh said. "You want some muscle with you? Is someone trying to collect on accounts payable?"

"I want someone not fucking crazy with me, and Lawson is in court today, over that defamation thing, so I'm compromising and taking you."

"Do I have to put on a suit?" Josh asked, vaguely aware that he was whining but not able to stop himself.

"Wear a shirt but not a tie, bring your driver's licence, drive me home after my mate Bob from Crush Management has drunk me under the table."

Josh sighed. "You can't use a cab voucher like the rest of the staff?"

"Crush Management," Kerry said. "You do know who Bob handles? I want someone sober there to take notes, because I'm going to be too fucking hammered to remember my own name. Just apologise to Bob for my behavior, try and negotiate some exclusive for the magazine, and don't fucking hit on him because he's straight."

The raucous sounds of the rest of the team greeting Stella filtered through the partition walls, and Kerry gathered up the papers on her desk. "Let's go fuck this pig," she said. "I hate weekly briefings."

Josh followed Kerry into the warehouse behind the office. Amongst the cartons, crates and mess, they'd jammed an old laminated kitchen table, a stack of folding chairs and a whiteboard, under the pretence it was a meeting room.

"Stella?" Kerry asked. "I heard her arrive."

"Bathroom," Michael said, from behind the latest issue of their opposition, an equally tacky and gossipy teen magazine. "Did you see that these guys got an exclusive interview with Gerard Way? How'd they get that?"

"Blood," Shannon said. "Or souls. The usual currency, since he gave up virgins and drugs."

Josh took the magazine off Michael and scanned the article. "Shit photos," he announced, handing it back. "Utter crap."

"I know, I know," Kerry said, testing whiteboard marker after whiteboard marker, trying to find one that worked. "You're a fucking artiste, and you're wasted here. Shut the fuck up, Josh. Leon!"

A whiteboard marker sailed through the doorway from the office, and Kerry caught it, then Leon bustled through, printouts in his hands, laptop under his arm.

"I'm here," Leon said. "With the run sheets. Stella just flushed."

"Thanks, Leon," Stella said, from behind him. "Do you ever wonder why we all hate you?"

"You all hate me because I know the passwords for your work laptops," Leon said. "And I've put keystroke logging on them all. You're all so fucked."

Josh shrugged, Shannon winced, and Stella groaned.

"Thank you, Morale Officer," Kerry said. "Since we're all here, apart from Dom, who is covered in baby vomit, and Lawson, who is trying to avoid getting us closed down for defamation, shall we move on to this week's issue and your assignments?"

Josh left the meeting with two interior spreads (fun places to go on dates and stupid boy band), and the cover (stupid girl in a dress) booked, and a diary cluttered with incidental appointments. In theory, he was the staff photographer, but the reality was that he got sent out on interviews and forced to write text as well, just because everyone did everything.

Kerry messaged Josh at midday, interrupting his attempts to produce a Guide to a Happy Date that didn't sound like a beginners guide to deeply creepy behaviour.

Got a shirt at work?

Course he messaged back. And jocks, socks, trousers, jeans, condoms, four lenses, two camera bodies, and a 35mm because I'm nostalgic for classic photography

Grab the shirt, but not the condoms Kerry messaged back. We're leaving

"Do I get lunch at any time!" Josh shouted, over the top of Shannon talking on her phone, and Stella reading the more hilarious parts about the boy band out to the office.

"Bill and Tom share everything," Stella read. "They couldn't be any closer. Do the people who write this shit have any idea what it sounds like?"

"Absolutely," Michael said. "I used to work in PR, we'd write crazy-arsed shit like that all the time, just to see if anyone noticed."

"Yeah, but you sold real estate, not boy bands," Stella said.

Josh stood up and pulled his T-shirt off, then rummaged through the cupboard behind his desk where he kept his camera gear to retrieve his clean shirt.

"Flesh alert," Shannon said. "Give us some warning next time, Josh."

Josh pulled the shirt on and buttoned it up, then undid his jeans to tuck it in, and Stella shouted in dismay. "Dick alert! Dick alert!"

"Children," Kerry said. "Don't. I'm just popping out for a bit, please don't set fire to the office while I'm gone. Stella, aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Shit!" Stella said, grabbing her bag and jacket, and pushing past them, out the front door of the office.

Josh followed Kerry out, and around the corner to the where Kerry's car was parked, probably illegally.

"That was cruel," Josh said, catching Kerry's keys when she tossed them to him, then blipping the car unlocked. "Stella didn't have an appointment, did she?"

"Nope," Kerry said. "But she should have known that. Drive us to the Hilton in the city, preferably without any speeding fines, running any red lights, or getting us arrested."

"Yeah, like you haven't been busted too," Josh said. "You're just making me drive because the fucking hook turns in the city are too complex for you."

"Fuck you," Kerry said.

Kerry led Josh into one of the bars at the Hilton, where a bloke wearing a rumpled suit and with a stack of hardware in his face stood up from a booth and hugged her.

"Kerry, sweetie," the bloke drawled. "Still the hottest, nastiest editor in the southern hemisphere."

"Bob, you creep," Kerry said. "Do something about your piercings, you smell like parmesan cheese. This is Josh, he's here to take me back to the office when I pass out."

"I'm Bob. Are you unlucky enough to work for Kerry?"

"Someone has to actually do the work," Josh said, shaking Bob's hand.

"Remind me to fire you," Kerry said, holding out the company credit card. "Now go and buy us drinks, Josh. Bob will drink some dreadful American beer."

Josh put a Samuel Adams, a double G and T, and a bottle of water on the booth table a couple of minutes later and slid in beside Kerry.

"What you got for me?" Kerry asked. "And what's it going to cost?"

"Got a couple of bands over here soon, they need some coverage, the right kind. I just want to be on top of the message going out, and I'm willing to trade off some exclusivity in exchange. "

"Who are the bands?" Kerry asked.

Bob shrugged. "Cobra Starship and Fall Out Boy."

Kerry chugged her G and T and nudged Josh. "More, Josh. Then take some notes for me."

Josh took Kerry's empty glass to the bar, and ordered a refill, then sat back down at the booth and pulled out a notebook and pen.

*  
"Another week, another issue," Kerry said. "Thank you, Dom, for remembering you have a place of employment and deigning to attend."

Don, who had looked as bad as Stella did when he'd walked in that morning, didn't even lift his head from his folded arms, he just groaned.

"And what have we learned from this past week?" Lawson asked. "Leon, the whiteboard please."

"What? Am I your fucking secretary?" Leon asked, standing up and pulling out a whiteboard marker.

"Actually, you're everyone's secretary," Lawson said. "Shut up and take notes."

"First," Kerry said. "Michael is never allowed to say or write offensive or insulting things about someone he has interviewed ever again. Understood, Michael? Rush is not saving your legal arse next time."

Michael flinched and nodded, and Leon scribbled.

"Secondly, Stella is never being sent to interview anyone from the music industry again, even if Shannon has gastro and Michael is covering a teen health expo. Stella?"

Stella looked up from putting on lipstick using a pocket mirror. "What?"

"Criminal. Charges. Okay?"

Stella nodded.

"Thirdly, Dom, you are out of personal leave, accrued long service leave, sick leave, holiday leave, compassionate leave, paternity leave, unpaid leave and good will. Work, or be sacked. I'm fucking sick of doing the layout myself."

"Oh, fuck," Dom moaned, face on the table.

"On to this week," Lawson said. "Let's do a couple cover. Anyone got a hook?"

"Dating?" Shannon asked.

"Last week," Michael said.

"Breaking up," Stella said. "It's the logical follow on."

"Done," Kerry said. "Stella can write it, as long as she doesn't interview any actual teenagers, not after what happened last week."

"You make one lapse of judgment…" Stella said.

"I don't think doing lines in a hotel room with the band and getting arrested for possession is one lapse of judgment," Lawson said. "I think it's probably several dozen."

"And we can't even use the photos," Kerry said. "Set up the cover shoot, Josh. What about interior spreads? I've booked you for the band spread. Got anything else?"

"Budget shopping?" Josh suggested. "I could shoot at the markets on the weekend with a couple of models, so it would be cheap, and Michael or Stella can put together the text without thinking too hard."

"Done," Lawson said. "Okay, Leon, where's the hat, so we can draw the victim to do this week's advice column?"

Leon produced a paper bag and shook it. "Who wants to do the lucky dip?"

"Did you take Stella's name out, like I asked you?" Kerry asked. "Because I don't think it's wise to have her diagnosing STDs by email like that."

"The paper bag is amended as requested," Leon said. "People who did not pay up their bribes and favours have had their names put back in the bag."

"Shitfuck," Dom said. "Sorry, Leon, I've been a bit busy."

"Loser," Josh said.

Kerry drew a name out. "And Shannon is writing this week's advice column. Michael can do the diet and health column, or how not to starve yourself stupidly."

"Can't Josh write that one?" Michael complained. "He's the food control freak."

"I'm not letting him push his personal food purity manifesto in the magazine again," Lawson said. "We got hate mail last time."

"You're all going to die," Josh said. "That's all I said."

"Awesome," Kerry said. "Don't. Since Stella obviously can't go with you to the photo shoot for the bands, I'll send Shannon instead. Shannon, you and Josh are booked for exclusives on Thursday morning. Dress decently, please, because you're going to have to get through the tabloids to get into the hotel."

"We are the tabloids," Shannon observed.

"Don't tell anyone," Lawson said. "And in this case, we're the tabloids with a gold-embossed invitation, so don't mess it up."

After the meeting, Josh followed Kerry into her office and slumped down into the creaking plastic chair. "Shannon?" he whispered. "Why?"

"Michael has a dentist appointment, I'm never letting Stella near a band again, Dom is too unreliable even if he didn't have a huge backlog of work, and I'm not sending Leon with you."

"You could do it," Josh said. "You used to do this kind of gig all the time."

Kerry glared at Josh. "I'm not getting up at 8am to interview some fucking pop punk bands, just because they are in a world of trouble."

"Oh?"

Kerry leaned forward. "Yeah. This whole reunion tour thing is apparently not going well. Bob is concerned with maintaining the façade, so make sure you photograph happy faces and jolly friends."

Josh nodded. "Long as I know what you want."

*

"You're not Shannon," Josh said to Stella, handing her a coffee made to Shannon's requirements. "You'll have to drink a skinny latte with artificial sweetener and put up with it. Where is Shannon?"

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you," Stella said, pulling Shannon's ID out of her pocket and waving it at Josh, and grabbing the coffee with her other hand. "We did a swap."

"You are so fucked when you get busted," Josh said, hitched his camera bag higher on his shoulder and steadying his grip on his light stand bag. "We've got about seven minutes to drink these in, before we have to go deal with spoilt American brats and their celebrity wives."

"Shannon said you went to the meeting with their manager. What's the deal?"

Josh sucked on the straw in his wheatgrass juice and shrugged. "Only ask nice questions. Everyone has to be happy."

"Awesome," Stella said. "So I'm not allowed to report on the bandaged wrists and bodyguards that are actually there to stop them all from jumping?"

"That would be right."

"I used to be a real journalist," Stella said, following Josh down the street towards the Hilton. "An investigative journalist, with a serious newspaper."

"And I used to be a fucking wedding photographer," Josh said. "Unemployment is ugly, so stop whining and get ready to pretend to be Shannon."

The threatened tabloid presence outside the hotel turned out to be Jacko from AP, who looked pleadingly at them until Stella handed him her unfinished coffee.

"It could be so much worse than Rush," Stella muttered in the elevator, clipping Shannon's ID to her jacket. "At least Kerry and Lawson don't make us stand outside hotels."

"Not since we did that story on hookers," Josh said as the elevator doors slid open.

A hulking great security guard stopped them at the entrance to one of the corridors, and checked their IDs and the printout of the email Kerry had given them, then waved them through

A small woman, radiating disapproval the same way Kerry did on a bad day, opened the door they’d knocked on.

“Damn, you’re on time,” she said. “Have a seat, no one is awake yet.”

*

Andy opened his hotel room door and wandered out, the thing in his hand.

“Where’s Jade?” he asked Rudy, who was hanging around the hallway, being conspicuous.

Rudy pointed at a door and shrugged, so Andy opened the door.

Sure enough, Jade was there, with a couple of people he didn’t recognize.

“Hey, Andy,” Jade said. “You’re first person up. I was just going to send Rudy to start banging on doors.”

Press. They had publicity crap to do.

“Um, yeah, no one’s moving,” Andy said. “Ah, is there any chance of some actual food? This piece of fruit seems to be made of wax or something.”

“I’ll get you some breakfast,” Jade said. “Don’t disappear again.”

Andy said down in one of the empty chairs in the suite and nodded at the press guys that were there.

The woman said, “I’m Shannon, and this is Josh. We’re with Rush magazine.”

Shannon had a recorder out, and a notebook in her hand, and Andy tossed the wax apple in the air and caught it.

“Sorry, I’m contractually obliged not to talk to the press without a handler in the room.”

Josh, the guy, who was six foot of hot muscle, looked like he was trying not to smile at Andy, and Shannon said, “Oh, okay.”

“Yeah,” Andy said.

Later, while Pete was across the room, talking his usual shit to Shannon, and Josh was setting up the lighting for Andy’s solo shots, Josh murmured, “Can you sit forward a bit? Yeah, like that. So what kind of fucked-up shit does someone like you have to say to the press to get silenced?”

The slave speedlight on the stand flared, and Josh looked at Andy over the top of his camera.

“I got opinions,” Andy said. “That’s all.”

Andy got the feeling Josh was watching him very intently through the SLR, then the speedlights flared again and Josh lowered his camera.

“You’re good,” Josh said.

Andy let Joe take his place in the chair, and went to find the real food that Jade had persuaded the hotel to provide him. It was possible he was not quite as filled with rage as he had been for the past nightmarish ten days of the tour.

The door to the suite opened, and Ashlee walked in, letting in the sound of the kids charging up and down the hallway, being chased by nannies.

Yep, still not filled with rage. Definitely only mildly bitter that he was touring with a fucking tribe of kids, as well as a band.

Ashlee went over to sit beside Pete, to do her part of the whole endless process, and Andy stepped out into the mass craziness of the hallway.

A small person shouted, “Uncle Andy!” and latched themselves onto his leg tightly.

Andy didn’t bother attempting to identify which of the infants it was. It was so much easier to ease the little limpet off and hand it to the nearest adult who looked like they cared, who was one of the troupe of nannies.

“Have fun,” Andy told the kid. “Bite people. Grow up to be a metalhead.”

The nanny glared at Andy, but that was okay because Andy wasn’t trying to fuck any of the nannies, and Andy let himself back into his hotel room.

*

Andy had a kind of universal food translator in his head, built up from years of trying to feed himself while touring, but it had jammed completely. He could deal with coriander and chickpeas, and he knew to order everything without beetroot, just to stop the Australians from putting pickled beets in the weirdest shit. But he had no idea what a ‘Veggie Mystery Bag’ was.

“It’s a sav,” the guy behind the counter said. “Completely vegan.”

Taking out his iPhone and searching for a translation was starting to look like the only option, when Josh, the camera guy from that morning, pushed his way through the strips of plastic hanging in the doorway of the vegan café.

It took a moment for Josh to stop looking at the chalkboard containing the menu and notice Andy, but then he grinned.

“Hey,” Josh said.

“What’s a sav?” Andy asked. “I’m trying to order, and nothing makes sense.”

“It’s a sausage,” Josh said. “Evil things, even the vegan ones, don’t eat them.”

“Okay,” Andy said. “I’ll accept your superior local knowledge.”

The guy behind the counter pushed his dreadies behind his ears and said, “Do you know what you want, if you don’t want the Mystery Bag?”

Andy ordered what he hoped was an open sandwich containing soy cheese and salad, minus the obnoxious pickled beet, and Josh ordered what sounded like a large amount of salad.

“I’ll get this,” Andy said, taking out his wallet and pulling out a credit card. “For saving me from the Mystery Bag.”

“We don’t take cards, mate,” the guy with the dreadies said. “Only cash.”

“Shit,” Andy said.

Where was he exactly? In the middle of Melbourne? In the second decade of the 21st century? Apparently not.

Josh opened his wallet and handed over one of the brightly colored Australian bills, and took the change.

“Thanks,” Andy said, sitting down at a rickety table opposite Josh.

“So you’re like royalty and you don’t carry cash?” Josh asked.

“I’ve been in Australia about seventeen hours,” Andy said. “Some of which I’ve been asleep for, the rest of which I was doing publicity in. I owe you for that.”

Josh leaned back on the flimsy chair, folding his arms across his chest, and, okay, he obviously worked out, and big guys did things for Andy, but this was fucking ridiculous…

“I didn’t think you’d wander around without an entourage,” Josh said.

“Joe and I can,” Andy said. “Long as we cover up our tats.” He held out an arm, clad in a long-sleeved T-shirt. “Helps to keep the hair out of the way, too.”

“And you decided, with an entire city at your feet, to try and order the Mystery Bags here?” Josh asked.

“The hotel said it was the nearest place that did vegan food,” Andy said. “And since the hotel doesn’t seem able to feed me, I went looking.”

The guy with the dreadies put Josh’s plate holding a towering mound of salad on the table, and a plate of sandwiches in front of Andy.

“It is the nearest place to the hotel,” Josh said. “Which is why I’m here.”

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, then Josh said, “Oh fuck, I think I’m supposed to say how much I like your music, aren’t I?”

“Depends,” Andy said. “Whether you do or don’t.”

Josh paused, fork laden with lettuce in his hand. “That emo-pop-punk stuff makes me want to stab myself in the eardrums with a screwdriver. And what is it with all the ballads? Why the ballads? Sorry. I’m much keener on metal.”

Andy started laughing. “Don’t apologize. I totally respect your opinion. In fact, I think we could be friends.”

Andy finished his sandwich, while Josh was still halfway through his salad.

“Don’t you have to go back to the hotel?” Josh asked, when Andy stayed where he was.

“Do you have to go back to work?” Andy asked, because fuck it, if he didn’t do something that wasn’t work or babies soon, he was never going to get through the next week of the tour, never mind the next four months.

Josh grimaced, lifting the scar on his bottom lip. “Yeah, but I can just not turn up. You want a tour of the city?”

“Not the city,” Andy said.

Josh smiled slowly, and it just looked like a better and better idea.

“Sure,” Josh said, pushing his unfinished meal aside. “Let’s go.”

Outside the café, Josh said, “I just need to make some calls.”

Andy nodded and took out his own phone.

“I’m not going back to the office,” Josh said, into his phone, while Andy read his text messages. “You and Stella can sort out your own messes, okay… Fuck, I hope not,” Josh said. “Enjoy your day off.”

Andy looked up from his phone. “You trying to find Shannon? The Cobras have her, and she’s, um, busy, if the texts I’m getting from VickyT are any indication.”

Josh shrugged. “Okay, that’s why her phone’s off then.”

Josh rang someone else, and said, “Hi, Kerry. I won’t be in this afternoon…. Yeah, yeah, I know you want those images prepped… No, I’m getting laid. See you tomorrow.”

Andy looked up from the text he was writing to Pete. “The boss?”

“She and I have a policy of complete honesty with each other. Makes it so much easier to protect each other’s backs.”

Andy finished typing Banging a member of the press. Don’t wait up for me and sent it to Pete, then switched his phone to silent.

“Know what you mean.”

Josh turned towards the river and the bridge to the Hilton, and Andy said, “Not back at the hotel, it’s like a fucking daycare center in there. Let’s grab a room somewhere else, or do you live in the city?”

“Not close enough to be useful,” Josh said, as they walked along a busy street.

Andy looked sideways at Josh, as they were jostled by the crowd in an open mall. “I’m not carrying anything. I went out for a sandwich, not to pick-up.”

Josh grinned and patted the camera bag slung over his shoulder. “There’re more than just wide aperture lenses and speedlights in here. I don’t go anywhere without my camera.”

The other end of the mall opened onto a busy street, and Josh grabbed Andy’s elbow. “Down here,” he said, guiding Andy across the intersection against the lights, dodging everyone else crossing illegally, the trams, and the cars, to the doorway of a down market hotel.

“Give me two minutes to check-in,” Andy said. “I’ll wait for you inside.”

The hotel was shabby and crumbling, smelling of mould and cheap paint, and it made Andy nostalgic. The kid at the front desk didn’t even look at him, just shoved the registration paperwork across the desk when Andy asked for a double room.

Andy obliging filled in the form as illegibly as possible, and passed over an anonymously corporate credit card.

One minute later, Andy was standing at the foot of a flight of stairs, watching Josh stroll through the reception area, and the kid didn’t even look up from the TV he was watching.

“Don’t you people have obsessive anti-terrorism legislation?” Andy asked over his shoulder, as Josh followed him up the stairs. “I shouldn’t have been able to check-in that easily, right?”

“Why? You planning on doing something really illegal up here?” Josh asked, following Andy down a narrow hallway, while Andy checked room numbers.

“Wrong band member for that,” Andy said, sliding the key into the door and swinging it open.

The room was small, holding a double bed, a tiny fridge, a sink, and a TV on a bracket on the wall. The noxiously pink curtains were open, letting far too much sunlight into the room.

Josh crouched down in front of the fridge. He put the bottle of water from his camera bag into the fridge, then stood up and reached out and grabbed Andy’s T-shirt, pulling Andy close.

The kiss stung, all teeth and heat, and Josh pushed Andy back onto the bed and followed, sprawling heavily across him, making the springs squeak and the bed head bang against the wall.

Josh’s hands pushed at Andy’s T-shirt, shoving it up and out of way, and his hip ground down hard across Andy’s crotch.

“Do you switch?” Josh asked, mouth hot against Andy’s ear.

“Fuck, yeah,” Andy said, and Josh knelt up suddenly and began to pull his own shirt and T-shirt off.

Andy scrambled out of his T-shirt and went to undo his jeans, but Josh reached out a hand and touched Andy’s arm, where the tattoo of the scales wound around his forearm, sliding a fingertip across the ink.

Then Josh was over him again, pulling at Andy’s jeans, kicking shoes out of the way, pushing Andy further up the bed.

“Got a plan?” Andy asked, working his hands inside Josh’s jeans at the back and grabbing two hands full.

“Got some time?” Josh replied. “Or does this have to be fast?”

“I’ve got time, as long as your magazine doesn’t mind having the only shots of me,” Andy said, and they both made noises as Josh’s jeans slid down.

“Wow,” Josh said, mouth against Andy’s neck. “Missing photo ops is really going to present a unified and smiling front to the press. Isn’t that the sort of thing that will get your fired?”

“I’m un-fireable, all of us are,” Andy said. “We’ve got this gig locked down. What did you want to do?”

Josh’s teeth dragged across Andy’s collarbone as he slid lower. “You fuck me, then later, I’ll fuck you.” Josh lifted his heed. “Latex all the way.”

Andy nodded. “Sure. Hope you’ve got plenty.”

Josh rolled off Andy and crawled off the end of the bed, then dragged his camera case around beside the head of the bed.

Bent over like that, bare ass in the air, jeans around his thighs, Josh was even better to look at than Andy had anticipated. Some gifts just kept on giving, and treating himself to hot afternoon of fucking instead of doing press looked like being the best decision he’d made in a long time.

Josh rolled back onto the bed, kicking his jeans down, and tossed a full strip of condoms and a bottle of lube onto the middle of the bed.

“It’s possible we’ll go through a dozen,” Josh said. “But we won’t be able to function afterwards.”

“Who needs to function?” Andy said, clambering over Josh, so he straddled Josh’s waist, and pinning Josh’s shoulders to the bed.

Kissing someone who kissed back without reserve was making Andy burn, and his mouth was stinging when he lifted it off.

“Gonna suck you now,” Andy said, reaching for the strip of condoms and ripping one off.

“Fuck, yeah,” Josh said.

Josh was mostly hard already, when Andy slid off him and onto the bed, and all it took was a few tight, hard strokes, and Josh’s cock was fully there. Josh smelled good, like sweat and skin, and Andy rubbed his face against Josh’s thigh, dragging beard over paler skin, just to enjoy it.

“Fucking stop that,” Josh said, and Andy could hear that Josh was trying not to laugh.

“Ticklish?” Andy asked, looking up Josh’s belly, to where Josh was glaring at him.

“No!” Josh said. “Definitely not. Never.”

Andy nodded and tore the condom packet open with his teeth and dropped the rubber into his hand.

“I’ll take your mind off it,” Andy promised, rolling the rubber on carefully and pushing it down around the base of Josh’s cock.

Blowing someone through latex wasn’t a peak experience, but it was so much fucking better than worrying while not using latex, not when there was no way Andy was prepared to deal with finding a clinic when he was already on the tour from hell. And, if the way Josh grabbed the back of Andy’s shoulder and pushed him forward was any indication, it was still working for Josh.

Lots of pressure, hand around the base of Josh’s cock, thumb behind Josh’s balls, and it was enough for Josh to make the right noises, rumbling in this throat and rocking his hips.

Something whacked Andy’s shoulder, and Josh shook his arm.

Andy looked up, and Josh was waving the bottle of lube at him.

Good idea.

It was the good stuff too, high quality silicon lube, trickling down Andy’s fingers and dripping onto the bedding.

Josh lifted his knees, spreading his thighs, and Andy took Josh’s cock back in his mouth and pushed a slick finger against Josh’s ass.

Josh hissed, but the way his cock jumped in Andy’s mouth was more than enough reassurance that whatever Josh was feeling, it wasn’t pain.

“Less mouth,” Josh said. “Or I’m just going to come.”

Andy let Josh’s cock slide out of his mouth, to rest wetly on Josh’s belly. “We can do that.”

Josh grabbed a handful of Andy’s hair, holding his head still. “Reckon we’re at a place where I can tell you something?”

When Andy pushed his finger in further, up to the second knuckle, Josh jerked on his hair. Fuck, but it was good to be with someone who wasn’t scared to be physical.

“Under the circumstances, I think we’re there,” Andy said.

“I fucking get off on coming with someone in my arse,” Josh said.

Andy nodded, and began to slide his finger around, and at the first sign that Josh was letting go, he pulled back and pushed a second finger in.

The room was too warm with the windows closed and the sunlight pouring in, and sweat was starting to prickle at Andy’s skin. Josh was sweating too, beads dotting his belly, his thigh slipping under Andy’s arm.

“Enough,” Josh said, voice flat and tight, so Andy slipped his fingers out, wiped his hand on the bedding and knelt up to roll a condom on himself.

“Want me to blow you?” Josh asked, gaze low, on Andy’s groin.

“Next time around,” Andy said. “You’re not the only one in a hurry.”

Josh rolled over, belly down on the bed, and Andy uncapped the lube.

It felt so good, rubbing his cock along the crack of Josh’s ass, spreading the lube around.

Josh squirmed, lifting his hips, and Andy leaned his weight onto Josh’s back with one forearm, and steadied his cock with the other.

They weren’t quiet, so it was probably a good thing the windows were closed after all, but there was no fucking way Andy could have been silent, not with how it felt to ease his cock into Josh.

Josh thrashed around, under Andy, and Andy pushed a hand down on Josh’s shoulder.

“Fucking let go,” Andy said. “Before you hurt both of us.”

The hair at the back of Josh’s neck was matted with sweat, when Andy pushed his forehead against it, but Josh did what he was told and relaxed enough that Andy could finish sliding into him.

Josh hitched one knee up, and Andy dug his own knee in behind it, looking for some traction.

“Fuck, yeah,” Josh said into the bedding, and Andy pulled back and slammed into him hard.

It was so fucking raw, sweat sliding between Andy’s belly and Josh’s back, sunlight too bright through Andy’s eyelids, Josh clamped tight around his cock. Josh threw himself around under Andy, yelling and swearing, one hand reaching back to hang onto Andy’s hip, keeping them jammed together.

The aching spread, working deeper, and Josh jerked under Andy, tight as fuck, shouting as he came.

It was too late to slow down, and Andy didn’t try.

*

Andy was sprawled out across the bed, eyes half shut, sunshine falling in a solid band across his belly, when Josh managed to find the muscle coordination to roll over.

“Fuck,” Josh said, pulling off the condom he’d never got around to removing before and dropping over the side of the bed. “Want me to get yours?”

Andy nodded, waggling the fingers of one hand weakly at Josh.

Josh pulled Andy’s condom off too and tossed it randomly onto the floor.

“Hey.” Josh said, rolling onto his side and looking at Andy. “I really fucking want to photograph you. I’ll give you the memory card, so you’ll have the only copies.”

The ink on Andy’s leg was shining in the sunlight, intense blue and yellow and green, and Josh had to touch the shading, to see if he could feel the colours.

“Sure,” Andy said. “That works for me.”

Josh rolled back and grabbed his camera, switched out the memory card for a new one, then flipped the on switch.

“Just don’t fucking ask me to move or pose, or anything.”

Josh shortened the depth of field and pulled the zoom in, short sharp shutter speeds, grabbing shots of the Andy’s leg ink, then of his chest.

Andy moved, while Josh was shooting his arm, winding fingers around Josh’s forearm.

“Hey,” Andy said, pulling Josh in closer. “If I fall asleep, don’t fuck off and leave me here, okay? I’d have to call one of the crew to come and get me, because I’m fucking lost.”

“You’re not lost, mate,” Josh said, taking a photo of Andy’s almost-asleep face. “You’re fine.”

“Awesome,” Andy said, rolling onto his side, away from Josh.

Josh put his camera down on the bedside table and lay down beside Andy. A fly was buzzing stupidly against the glass of the window, and someone was talking in the room next door.

Unlucky bastards, having the room next to them. They had not been quiet.

“Asshole jetlag,” Andy said a couple of minutes later. “I’m ridiculously tired, and my body is useless, but my brain is sending me messages about sunshine and daytime. I blame the fact I was knee deep in snow a week ago, and now it’s summer and fucking hot.”

“I can cool you down,” Josh said.

The bottle of water in the fridge was chilled, when Josh took it out. He knelt on the bed and pushed Andy over, onto his face.

“I like this idea,” Andy said. “Whatever it is.”

Josh picked up his camera and set the shutter speed high, then pulled the cap off the bottle of water with his teeth.

“Ready?” Josh asked, tipping the bottle so water trickled out and fell onto Andy’s back.

Andy jerked, arching his back involuntarily and gasping, and the water splashed across his skin and ran down the groove of his spine, shining in the sunlight, making his ink glow.

The water ran down Andy’s ribs, soaking into the bedding, and Josh kept his finger on the shutter.

When Josh shuffled down Andy’s back, so he straddled Andy’s thighs, and he could tip the water across Andy’s arse. The cold water ran down the crack Andy’s arse, where Josh’s cock was resting, and Andy said, “Fuck, I’m awake now.”

“Me too.”

Josh tossed the empty water bottle on the floor, and leaned forward to lick the water off Andy’s lower back.

“Cold water’s gone,” Josh said. “It’s safe to turn over now.”

Josh didn’t feel like he was jumping out of his skin with desperation, which made it easier to concentrate on rolling a condom on Andy, and settling down between Andy’s legs to blow him thoroughly and slowly, two fingers in Andy’s arse.

“Can I?” Andy asked, reaching out for Josh’s camera, sitting on the bed.

“Sure,” Josh said, and he flicked the settings around to auto.

Andy propped himself up and lifted the camera up, and Josh could hear the shutter whirring.

“Fuck that’s hot,” Andy said. “Seeing you like that.”

Josh lifted his mouth off. “Not as hot as the bit where I fuck you up against the wall is gonna be.”

Andy looked around the camera. “Yeah?”

“Promise.”

Andy was good and rough to blow, not holding back, letting himself rock his hips, shoving his cock into Josh’s mouth hard. Josh approved, of sex that made him sting, of guys who weren’t afraid to let go in bed, and of Andy in general. Between the ink and the ripped body, he was the hottest guy Josh had fucked in a long time.

Something smacked against Josh’s face, and when Josh looked up, Andy had tossed a condom at him.

“Get a clue,” Andy said.

Josh knelt up and snagged the condom, and Andy leaned forward and curled his hand around Josh’s cock. The ‘FUCK’ tattoos on Andy’s knuckles lined up, and Josh reached out for the camera and grabbed a shot, then Andy’s fingers tightened, and holding the camera steady became trickier.

As soon as the condom was on, Andy spread lube over Josh’s cock and knelt up in front of him.

Josh climbed off the bed and grabbed Andy, pulling him off the bed too. “Don’t you need me to get you ready some more?” Josh asked, as Andy fucking climbed up him.

“Fuck that,” Andy said. “C’mon.”

The wall beside the windows looked the most solid, so Josh backed Andy up against it hard, hitching him higher so the wall held part of his weight.

“Hold on,” Josh said. “This could be rough.”

Andy’s fingers dug into Josh’s shoulders, driving points of pain right through Josh’s muscles, and Josh fumbled around blindly, trying to line his cock up.

“That’s it,” Andy said, and the feeling of it working, of his cock shoving into Andy’s body suddenly, was almost enough to make Josh’s knees give way.

Andy made a sharp noise against Josh’s neck, tightening his legs around Josh’s waist, then it was fucking on, both of them grinding together, hard against the wall, Josh’s cock so deep inside Andy that Josh wondered if he should be worried about the condom disappearing.

Then Andy moaned, and Josh fucking felt the ripple run through Andy’s body as the angles shifted and everything started fucking working for both of them.

Andy was quiet, quieter than Josh, breathing hard against Josh’s neck and cheek, letting out little gasps as Josh grabbed his skinny arse and lifted him up and down.

It was fucking hot work, and sweat made their bellies slap together wetly. Josh’s thighs were starting to burn, and he might have permanently lost the use of his trapezius muscles, from having Andy hanging off them by the fingers.

Josh must have slowed down, or stopped rocking so hard, because Andy said, “Don’t fucking stop, whatever you do.”

“’Kay,” Josh said, and Andy growled, deep in his throat, and then come began to slide between their bodies, slipping down, mixing with the sweat.

Andy’s grip loosened, and his head dropped against Josh’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Andy said, sounding broken.

“Hang on,” Josh said, lifting Andy’s weight again, and maneuvering them both around, then lowering them down onto the bed.

Andy was pliant underneath him, head turned to one side and eyes closed, his mouth slack and open against Josh’s.

Josh let his back unlock, now it wasn’t holding their weight, and rocked into Andy slowly and carefully, long slow strokes, rolling himself straight into coming.

“Fuck jetlag,” Andy said as Josh rolled off him. “I’m passing out now.”

Josh flopped on the bed beside Andy and closed his eyes too.

He woke sometime later, stupidly thirsty and busting for a leak. No way was he getting dressed and going looking for a bathroom, not when some kind hotelier had provided him with a sink.

When he’d pissed into the sink and run the water to wash it away, Josh refilled the water bottle and drank deeply, studying Andy sleeping.

The camera was still on the bedside table, so Josh took careful shots, of Andy’s face, of his hand curled limply on the pillow, of the bedding bunched up around his knees.

Andy looked exhausted in his sleep, like he’d been awake forever, and for all Josh knew, maybe he had been.

Josh ignored his own phone, still in his jeans, and made sure not to stand on any of the condoms they’d tossed around the room as he walked back to the bed. He didn’t want to know what Kerry thought, or if Stella and Shannon had sorted themselves out yet. There would be time tomorrow to be yelled at when he went to work.

Andy rolled over, sometime later, and opened his eyes.

“Was I asleep long?” he asked groggily.

“About an hour perhaps,” Josh said. “I didn’t pick through your wallet, so don’t panic.”

“If I thought you were going to touch my wallet, we wouldn’t have left the café,” Andy said. “You have an honest face for a journalist.”

“Not a journalist,” Josh said. “Despite what my union card and my boss say. I’m a fucking photographer.”

Andy rubbed his knuckles against Josh’s chest sleepily and leaned over the side of the bed to rummage through his jeans and find his phone.

“I’m late for the rest of the tour,” Andy said. “Think you’re honest enough to walk me back to my actual hotel?”

“As long as you don’t care that I smell like I’ve spent the afternoon fucking in a sweatbox.”

“Don’t think that’s an issue,” Andy said.

Andy ditched the accrued condoms in rubbish bin in Bourke St Mall, as they pushed through the late afternoon commuter rush.

The sun had dropped in the sky, and the glare bouncing off the pavement was no longer blinding. Josh kept his camera around his neck, on the loose strap, and took surreptitious photos of Andy, with his hair shoved out of sight into his cap and his hands in his jeans pockets, slouching through the city crowd.

No one so much as glanced at Andy, and Josh was impressed with Andy’s ability to melt away, dropping the presence that he’d shown at the photo shoot that morning, and even in the hotel room.

Near Andy’s hotel, Josh switched his camera off, popped out the memory card and held it out. “Here you are.”

Andy blinked and looked at Josh’s hand, then took the card. “Um, thanks. Do you have a media pass for the show tomorrow night?”

Josh shook his head. “Wrong sort of photos. Rush magazine is all posed portraits and gossip, not live action shots from shows and actual music reviews. What can I say? They pay me.”

“Want one anyway? I’d need to know your last name, to put on the pass, that’s all.”

“My first name is Brendan, last name is Joshua.”

Andy looked at the card in his hand, and held it back out to Josh. “Direct message me through the forum on my site, with an upload link for the photos. I don’t need to keep the card.”

Josh watched Andy walk into the hotel, then held out his hand to flag down a taxi. He desperately wanted to go home and shower, but he suspected he wasn’t fit to hop on a tram in the rush hour.

*

Josh made a point of not being late to work.

Kerry stomped out of her cupboard, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him back out the front door, before he’d even put his camera bag and laptop down.

“You and me, outside, now,” she said.

“Hokay,” Josh agreed, letting Kerry haul him back out onto the footpath. In public, she’d be less likely to physically injure him, which could only be good.

“Right,” Kerry said, pointing at Josh’s chest. “At what point did you get involved in the Shannon/Stella swap?”

“When Stella turned up outside the hotel,” Josh said. “I even picked up Shannon’s coffee order in advance.”

“You didn’t think to call me?” Kerry asked. “You didn’t think either Lawson or I should know about this?”

“Do you want staff loyalty and cohesion or not?” Josh asked back. “Of course I didn’t call you. I don’t know why they swapped, either. For all I know, Shannon had a gynecologist’s appointment. If I have to hear about one more pap smear…”

Kerry glared at Josh. “I was missing four staff members yesterday afternoon, because Dom buggered off. Four! You left me alone in the office with Michael and Leon for company. I almost stabbed Leon.”

“Sorry,” Josh said.

“Anyway, an envelope was express couriered here for you first thing this morning, from Crush Management. Want to tell me about it?”

“That’d be my media pass for the show tonight.”

“Ooh,” Kerry said. “Exactly who did you fuck to get that? The tour manager? One of the married guys in the band? Please tell me it was the silently hot one.”

“I don’t fuck married men,” Josh said. “You know that.”

Kerry punched him, none too gently. “And we all know why. That’s because you learned your lesson, boning a fellow staff member who was married, and forcing us to lie to his wife about it, you creep. Don’t act all virtuous, we all know you’re a sleaze.”

“Fuck off,” Josh said. “I am never going near another married guy again, not after what happened. It’s possible this bloke wasn’t single, but he’s not one of the married-with-kids people, so I figured whatever arrangement he has with any boyfriend back home is his own problem.”

“What happens on tour, stays on tour,” Kerry said. “I’ve heard all about that from Bob. Drives him fucking crazy, cleaning up the messes his bands make.”

“You finished?” Josh asked.

“So, where are the photos?”

Josh thought about punching Kerry back, but figured only bad things would come of it.

“What makes you think I took photos?”

“Because you always do,” Kerry said. “I know about your collection.”

Josh pulled a thumb drive out of his pocket and waggled it at her. “Sure, but you’re only getting the clean ones.”

“I don’t ever want to see your dick again,” Kerry said, pushing Josh back towards the office door. “I can’t believe you have that photo on your bathroom wall. Doesn’t you mum ever visit?”

Josh followed Kerry into her office and crowded behind her desk, leaning over her shoulder.

“My mum has seen my dick before.”

“You’re such a fucking boy,” Kerry said, while Josh pushed the thumb drive into a USB port and opened up the folder with yesterday’s date.

The first photo was of Andy’s back, the water caught mid-splash, refracting the sunlight, Andy’s tattoos glistening and wet, his muscles bunched up under his skin as he arched his back.

Kerry stared at the screen in silence.

“Want me to click to the next one?” Josh asked.

“Um, yeah,” Kerry said. “That’s possibly the best shot you’ve ever taken, isn’t it?”

Josh grinned. “I like it. Pity I can never show anyone.”

“Does the guy like it?”

The second photo was of Andy’s hand curled loosely on the pillow, his knuckle tattoos incongruous against the white cotton, the relaxation of his hand saying so much to Josh about how tired Andy had been, and how fucked.

“I don’t know,” Josh admitted. “I sent him the upload link, but I’ve not heard anything back from him.”

The third shot was of Andy’s face, hair falling across his eyes as he slept, and Kerry smiled. “You’re a sentimental bastard at heart, aren’t you?”

“You’re only saying that because I’ve not shown you the dick and balls photos,” Josh said, closing the photo and pulling the thumb drive out of Kerry’s PC. “You’re not seeing the, um, whole picture.”

“One day, your hobby of taking dick photos is going to get your into trouble,” Kerry said. “Go away now, put together the spread from yesterday, using photos of people wearing actual clothes and with their eyes open.”

Kerry’s voice was amused, not hostile, so Josh patted her on the shoulder and pocketed his thumb drive. He hadn’t even looked at the official photos from the day before, so he had a lot of work ahead of him. And if Andy came out of the Photoshop suite looking even hotter than he had in real life, that was not going to be completely random chance.

*

Josh shoved his ear plugs in harder, and checked the battery pack on his camera. He knew the photographer next to him in the pit, from around the place, and earplugs seemed the easiest way to avoid having to explain what he was doing there, at a Fall Out Boy concert, wearing an official media pass, and holding his fucking camera.

Josh wasn’t really sure himself. Kerry had reminded him, as he’d left work, that his employment contract gave Rush first right of refusal on everything he shot, regardless of where and when, so he knew he’d have to show her something the next day.

But that didn’t answer the question of why he was there.

Did he think he might a chance at another round with Andy? Honestly, no. Yesterday had clearly been once-off occurrence. Had he turned up anyway, with a new strip of condoms in his bag, just in case?

Yeah. Yeah he had.

And he was going to have to endure an entire fucking show, with two support acts, as punishment for daring to hope for more than one afternoon of fucking.

Someone tapped Josh’s shoulder, making Josh jump.

One of the crew was talking at Josh, so Josh yanked his earplugs out.

“Sorry?” Josh asked, over the noise of squealing girls in the pit and stupid music being played over the concert sound system.

“Are you Brendan Joshua?” the guy in the black shirt asked.

Josh nodded. “Yeah.”

“Got some ID on you?”

“Um, okay,” Josh said, digging his wallet out and finding his union card. “That good enough?”

“Works for me, but I’m a union man myself,” the guy said, handing the card back. “Here’s your backstage pass. Follow me.”

Josh took the bright yellow lanyard and card that the guy held out and hung them over his neck, tangling with his camera strap, and followed the guy out of the pit, past the enormous, bored-looking security guard at the end.

“I didn’t ask for a backstage pass,” Josh said, pushing past monstrous speaker stacks, behind the guy, to where the noise was mercifully less.

The guy shrugged. “Hey, you can hand it back. Or, you can hang around backstage to watch the gig. Don’t leave the immediate backstage area, don’t open any closed doors, don’t get in anyone’s way, don’t use flash photography, don’t annoy any of the bands, and please do exactly what you’re told by a member of the crew.”

Josh looked around what was presumably the staging area, with banks of guitars and a huge sound deck, and switched his camera on, just as the crew member left him and the efficient manger-type from the day before spotted him, from her place behind the sound board.

“You’re Josh?” she asked, waving him closer, and Josh nodded.

Her smile was just like one of Kerry’s when Stella had fucked up.

“I’m supposed to ask you to hang around after the show, apparently.”

“Okay,” Josh said. “Thanks.”

“Right, I’ve done my bit, now go somewhere else.”

Josh left the pseudo-Kerry to her job, and walked the back of the stage, through the tangle of shipping crates, while dodging people shifting gear and calling instructions to each other, until he’d worked his way around the other side of the stage.

Once he’d found somewhere to stand where no one moved him on from, that looked like it would give him a good view of the stage, he rang Stella.

“How come you got a media pass and I didn’t?” Stella asked, after an initial burst of swearing.

“Dunno,” Josh said. “Want me to take Cobra photos for you?”

“I know what kind of photos you take, you pervert,” Stella said. “Yes, please.”

Josh hung up and turned his phone off.

Hang around after the show? Really? He’d photograph quite a few emo-pop-punk bands that sang stupid ballads if it meant he got fucked by Andy again that night.

*

Jade had told Andy Josh was there, backstage somewhere, before the local band that was opening for them went on, but all Andy had been able to see of him was a tall shape on stage left as Andy had got ready to go on.

Andy ditched his T-shirt, right beside the water station, and swung his arms, checking he was loosened up. His shoulders were still pulling, from the previous afternoon, and he had bruises that read like a How To manual for hot fucking, according to Pete anyway.

Then Andy had shown Pete the water-on-the-back photo, once he’d downloaded the files, and now Pete was wandering around looking dazed, muttering about boring married sex.

Andy glanced at the person behind the camera one more time, to check it really was Josh, high fived the others, which was the minimum amount of enthusiasm he was required to show before a gig, and ran after Pete onto the stage.

Twenty minutes into the show, two things were becoming obvious. Firstly, sound check had not been long enough for Andy to find out that his ass was sore, and secondly, that was not going to be any kind of disincentive when it came to hitting on Josh post-show, because he was also distractingly horny.

Once they’d done the whole encore/Saturday/everyone go home routine, and were really off the stage, Andy wound a towel around his shoulders and mopped his face enough that he could see through the sweat, shoved his glasses back on, and went looking for Josh.

Josh was at the front corner of the stage, camera held up over his head, taking photos of the crowd in the pit sorting itself out, but he followed Hank, the tech that Andy sent to get him, backstage instantly.

“Hey,” Andy said, standing to one side of the corridor so James could lug an armful of guitars past. “You got a car here?”

“Yeah,” Josh said, “Somewhere in the nightmare of the car park.”

“Think there’s anywhere still open that does vegan food?” Andy asked. “I’m starving.”

Josh smiled, and Andy thought about mashing his own face against the cinderblock wall, just to stop himself from being so obvious in front of the crew.

“I know a place that does awesome vegan food,” Josh said. “Kitchen is still open.”

“Can you wait fifteen minutes while I shower?” Andy asked. “Assuming I can make Joe get the fuck out of the shower quickly.”

“Dress code there is non-existent,” Josh said, “Just grab a t-shirt, you’ll be fine as you are.”

Load-out was getting started, with roadies and the tech crew all around them, so Andy couldn’t do much except look up at Josh, who was grinning at him, and nod.

It took him a minute, no more, to pull on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and stuff his sweat-soaked hair up into a cap, then he grabbed his pack and found Jade.

“I’m going off, probably for the night,” Andy said. “My duffel is packed already, in my room, if I don’t get back to the hotel.”

“We’re flying out at eight in the morning,” Jade said. “Don’t forget.”

Andy shrugged. “If I miss the plane, it won’t be because I forgot.”

“I’m not waiting for you,” Jade said. “Is that clear?”

“I’ll catch a commercial flight,” Andy said.

Jade pulled out her phone and waved it at Andy threateningly, and Andy walked off, thumbing his own phone off in his pocket.

“Let’s fuck off,” Andy said. “Go and spend half an hour getting out of the car park.”

He led Josh back into the body of the stadium, where people had mostly cleared out of the stands. “Can’t use the stage door exit,” Andy explained. “I’d get spotted immediately.”

“And you won’t going out this way?” Josh asked, as they climbed up the concrete steps of the stand.

“Context is wrong,” Andy said, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets so his tats were hidden.

They stood at the back of the people still waiting to clear the doors at the top of the stands, and Andy elbowed Josh and pointed at Josh’s backstage and media passes, which Josh pulled off and shoved into his camera bag.

“Now security will bust my arse for taking a pro-camera out of the show,” Josh said.

“I can fix that,” Andy said, keeping his voice low.

Josh’s car was old and rusty, and as soon as Josh had closed the driver’s door so the interior light was off, Andy leaned across the space between the seats and grabbed hold of Josh’s t-shirt.

“We are going to your place?” Andy asked. “Because I really fucking need a shower, then to do something long and messy to you.”

“Yeah, we’re going to my place,” Josh said, nudging the peak of Andy’s cap aside. “And I’ll cook you a meal while you shower.”

Andy could hear his own breathing, in the quiet of the car, and headlights from the cars around them cut into the car, dazzling him and leaving him blinking.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Josh said, “Because if I do, we’re going to wind up in the backseat, fucking ourselves stupid.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Andy said.

“It is if you’re six foot tall,” Josh said. “It hurts.”

Andy let go of his grip on Josh’s T-shirt. “Not a problem I have. I had a look at the photos, at least as many as I dared given there were other people in the room. I think they’re the best photos of me anyone has ever taken.”

Josh ran the pad of his thumb down Andy’s neck. “Thank you.”

“I’d like to put the one of my back on my blog,” Andy said. “But I don’t think I can, because I can’t credit you as the photographer.”

“I gave the photos to you,” Josh said. “I can’t do anything with them without a release form from you, and I don’t have that. They’re yours, to do whatever you want with. I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t circulate the shots of me blowing you, though. I might want to be a serious photojournalist at some point, and while an exciting personal life has never stopped a journalist before, it might decrease the number of places that will hire me.”

“I think you can be certain I won’t post any photos that will out me,” Andy said. “Every time I suggest coming out officially, a publicist explodes. I’m looking forward to this whole reunion bullshit being over, so I can have my life back.”

“Why did you do it, if you hate it?” Josh asked, starting the car and reversing it out of the bay, to the loud honking of car horns.

“Have you a good friend, someone you’d do anything for?” Andy asked. “Even things you’re really reluctant to do?”

“Yeah,” Josh said. “She’s my boss,”

“I’ve got three of them,” Andy said. “They wanted to do another album and tour it, and it couldn’t happen without me, so here I am, on tour with more kids than you’d believe possible, a stack of nannies and wives, no tour cook, and a tour manager who might as well be a wife.”

“Sounds fucking awful,” Josh said. “Like being permanently on a bad plane flight, with kids crying and only meals you don’t want left. Not that I’ll eat airline food anyway.”

“Exactly like that. I feel like the heterosexual world has won,” Andy said, “Only no one ever told me there was a competition on in the first place.”

The queue of cars that Josh had forced his way into began to creep forward.

“Sorry,” Andy said. “I shouldn’t whine. I get to make music with my friends for my job, and not many people have that.”

“Hey, I get to take photos for my job,” Josh said. “Doesn’t mean I don’t complain about the losers I have to work with. And, when Kerry makes me write articles on teen dating, or self esteem issues, or how to look good in a bikini, doesn’t mean I don’t vent like crazy.”

“You have to write that shit?” Andy asked.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “I can tell you why it’s important not to put out on the first date, but that’s possibly redundant.”

Andy laughed. “I never thought about the poor assholes who have to think up those articles. Do you put subversive messages in them?”

“Sure. And Kerry edits them out. One day, I’ll be more cunning than her, and get something to print.”

The traffic snarl came unblocked, and Josh put the car into second gear and bounced it across the speed humps in the car park, then swung the car onto the road.

“You look tired,” Josh said. “If you want to go to sleep, you can. I’ll wake you up.”

“Too wired, too horny, too hungry, time zones are all wrong,” Andy said.

Josh nodded, in the light from the dashboard, but didn’t say anything.

Andy appreciated the quiet, with just the hum of the car engine. Street lights flickered through the car windows, and Josh hummed to himself under his breath, not anything Andy could place.

Josh’s hand spread across Andy’s thigh, substantial and heavy, in between gear changes, and it made Andy remember being held against the wall by Josh the day before.

Twenty minutes later, Josh parked the car in the car park beside a small apartment block and switched the motor off.

“Thank you,” Andy said. “For getting me out of that place, for yesterday too.”

“Believe me, it was no hardship,” Josh said.

Andy followed Josh up a flight of stairs, and into an apartment. Josh flicked the lights on, in the main room they were in, and Andy said, “Oh wow,” at the huge enlargements of portraits that hung around the room.

“That’s Kerry,” Josh said, pointing at the photo of a frazzled-looking woman with dark hair that hung above the couch. “I put it there so I can watch a movie without having to see her face telling me off for not working. Bathroom is through here.”

Andy followed Josh through a messy bedroom, and Josh pushed open a door. “Go on, I’ve got to find you a clean towel.”

The bathroom was tiny, with just a shower stall, toilet and hand basin, and what wall was free was filled with a huge photo of Josh naked.

“Nice,” Andy called out, hanging his cap on the towel hook then pulling his T-shirt off. He kicked his shoes off, and tossed them out into the bedroom so they didn’t get wet, then dumped his jeans after them.

The hot water felt good, belting down on his back, and Andy forced himself to reach for the shampoo and start washing his hair, rather than just hanging around in the blissful water.

“Clean towel is on the sink,” Josh said. “And I’ve put my bathrobe on the bed, if you don’t have the energy to get dressed.”

“Never putting clothes on again,” Andy said. “Public nudity is the go.”

“Awesome,” Josh called out.

Andy rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, soaped himself quickly, and rinsed his skin off.

He didn’t bother with the towel, just wrapped the bathrobe around himself, and wandered out into the main room, dragging a comb through the mess of his hair.

Josh was alternating between shaking the handle of a huge bowl-shaped frying pan, and chopping vegetables rapidly with a large knife.

“Won’t be long,” Josh said, picking up the chopping board and scraping the sliced vegetables on it into the sizzling pan. “I’m not really cooking the veggies, just scaring them.”

“You always have this stuff around?” Andy asked, pulling a stool across so he could sit at the other side of the counter.

Josh grinned at Andy and turned around to open his fridge.

The fridge was full, of green leafy vegetables and bags of fruit. “Welcome to what my workmates call my food purity manifesto,” Josh said. “Otherwise known as, ‘You’re all going to die if you eat that shit’.”

“Well, yeah,” Andy said. “So what do you eat?”

“Fruit, vegetables, cooked grains, legumes, nuts, oils as long as I’m satisfied that they’re clean. No meat, no dairy, no pesticides, no GM food, no trans fats, no preservatives, no artificial anything if I can help it. What variety of vegan are you?”

“I don’t eat anything of animal origin,” Andy said. “For ethical reasons. I don’t think other animals should die so I can have bacon.”

Josh nodded. “I think we can dine together satisfactorily. I can promise nothing has suffered for this meal.”

Josh pulled a plate out of a cupboard and upended the frying pan onto it, then passed the plate across to Andy, along with a fork.

“Thanks,” Andy said. “Dick photo on your bathroom wall, veggies in your fridge? Are you sure you don’t have a partner hanging around somewhere?”

Josh laughed. “No one will have me. What about you?”

Andy chewed his way through two mouthfuls of crispy, hot vegetables he couldn’t identify, too hungry to stop himself, then said, “I got this intense best-friendship thing happening, with about a dozen people. It freaks potential lovers out, and they run away.”

“A dozen?” Josh asked. “That’s, um, polygamous of you.”

“The band, the four guys I share a house with, my other close friends.” Andy stopped talking and ate another couple of forkfuls really fast. “Fuck, this is good. Apparently, according to the last guy who dumped me, there wasn’t anything left for him once I’d spread myself around everyone else.”

“Fucker,” Josh said. “You just need someone less demanding. Like, completely undemanding.”

“Do those people exist?” Andy asked.

“I don’t know, but no one with any sense would ever take relationship advice from me anyway, so disregard everything I’ve said.”

“And yet, there you are, dispensing dating advice to innocent teenagers,” Andy said. “Aren’t there rules about that?”

“Only about actually dating the teenagers,” Josh said. “After what Stella did.”

Andy finished the last of his vegetables and pushed his plate across the counter. “That’s one hunger dealt with.”

Josh pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. “Want to fuck on the bed this time, in the hope we can both walk afterwards?”

Andy slid off the stool and stood beside it. “You know what? This is just about the right height. Go get supplies.”

They wound up with Josh sitting on the counter, leaning back on his elbows, while Andy blew him, his legs spread wide, one foot planted on the stool.

It was kind of perfect, the way Andy’s fingers slid into Josh’s ass, the way Josh moaned and rocked down onto them, how his cock rolled across Andy’s tongue.

Then Josh grabbed Andy’s hair and dragged his head up.

“Now?” Josh asked, handing Andy a rubber.

While Andy get the rubber on and lubed up, Josh slid off the counter and swung himself around so he was straddling the stool, arms folded on the counter, his head down on his forearms.

Andy rubbed a thumb over Josh’s ass, pushing lube in, then lined himself up.

“Fuck,” Josh whispered, and this time he was all let go, not fighting Andy at all, making it happen so sweetly.

Andy pushed in all the way, rocked forward on his toes to change the angle, then dragged his cock halfway out.

“Do anything, do whatever you want,” Josh said, and Andy could see he’d shifted one arm and was hanging onto his own cock.

The skin of Josh’s back marked in red trails when Andy pulled his nails down beside Josh’s spine, and Josh started jerking at his cock, elbow moving quickly.

Josh came, so quick and hard and sudden that Andy suspected it had taken Josh by surprise too. When Josh stopped groaning, Andy made himself slowdown and ask, “Want me to stop? I can finish myself off.”

Josh shook his head, where it was still on his forearm, and said, “Fuck, no, you’re good, keep going,”

So Andy dug his thumbs into Josh’s hips to brace himself, and stopped trying to hold himself back, just let the roaring his veins and the pounding in his ears take over, until he came so hard it made him feel like he’d been turned inside out.

He staggered as he pulled out, but Josh was around and grabbing him before he fell.

“Fuck, you’re hard again,” Andy said, aware his mouth was numb with the exhaustion that had just slammed him and he was probably slurring his words. “I can blow you.”

“You can’t even stand up,” Josh said, possibly quite reasonably. “I’m not trusting you near my dick. Get into bed.”

“Want to stay here,” Andy said, as Josh pushed him into the bedroom. “No crying babies here. Did you know that babies get colic?”

“All too familiar with that” Josh said, pulling the covers back, then tossing them over Andy once Andy had fallen onto the mattress. “I’m just going to turn the lights off. Go to sleep.”

Andy was vaguely aware of Josh climbing into bed beside him a few minutes later, and of the bedroom light being switched off, but that was all.

****

That's as far as I had written.

And then the photos were going to leak, and the photo of Andy’s hand around Josh’s dick was going to be interpreted as another FOB-band-member-jerking-off-photo for a while, until the rest of the photos surfaced. And it was going to be either Leon, or someone in the FOB team that had leaked them, and Josh and Andy were going to blame each other for a bit, with acrimony and hostility, and heckling from their workmates. Then it was all going to be resolved.


End file.
